


Fear of Flying Part II

by mad_teagirl



Series: Fear of Flying [2]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-14
Updated: 2011-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_teagirl/pseuds/mad_teagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had started to get used to her presence. Seeing her everyday with a bright smile and a “Good morning Doctor,” had almost become welcome; even if he was half awake and irritable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear of Flying Part II

Nearly half a year later, McCoy found himself logging the clinic’s dailies when Doctor Puri all but sauntered into the infirmary with a look somewhat akin to self satisfaction.

“Doctor McCoy, you are aware of the medical internship program that Starfleet has begun, are you not?” The tone of voice he used instantly set McCoy at a sort of wary defense. Interactions like this rarely ended in anything that made him even remotely happy.

“No.” He told the other doctor shortly, hoping to minimize conversation so that he could finish the log and leave the clinic for the day.

“Basically, they’ve been assigning medical students to doctors to work as their assistants. You know, get field experience in.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?” Puri practically beamed as he waved his PADD in front of McCoy’s nose.

“Because, doctor, I’ve got your assignment here.” McCoy narrowed his eyes.

“Assignment? So now on top of all the work I’ve got going on every day in this infirmary I’m going to have a kid to be looking after? Dammit, I’m a doctor, not a babysitter.”

“I shouldn’t worry about that too much, she’s terribly clever, I doubt babysitting her is going to really come up at all.” McCoy could have shaken the man for his insufferably smug tone, instead he said through gritted teeth.

“Who the hell did you stick me with?”

“Christine Chapel.”

He couldn’t even find the energy to be surprised.

***

Christine bustled into the infirmary on Monday morning, 9 AM sharp. She was, indeed, terribly clever, as promised. She was just as competent as any of the nurses he’d had working with him in the infirmary, and more so then some.

She was oh so professional and thorough. She did as she was told, and she never talked back.

And three months into her internship with him she had learned exactly how he liked his coffee, (no cream and two sugars), and had it on his desk waiting for him each morning when he dragged himself in.

He had started to get used to her presence. Seeing her everyday with a bright smile and a “Good morning Doctor,” had almost become welcome; even if he was half awake and irritable.

The first few months that she was assigned to him, Jim turned up at the infirmary with a greater frequency then he previously had. And she would sigh and give him pain killers, or bandages. And he would kiss her on the cheek and ask her if he would see her that night.

It irritated McCoy, but he supposed he couldn’t fault her for seeing Jim Kirk. It would be like faulting half of Starfleet.

He could tell when they were no longer seeing each other by the fact that Jim stopped coming to the infirmary for every headache and paper cut. The fact that Kirk was obviously still friends with Christine was uncharacteristic, but McCoy found himself shockingly almost glad that whatever sort of relationship they’d had was over.

One day about six months in he realized he was starting to _enjoy_ her presence. And it almost gave him an anxiety attack.

***

He had to stay through lunch at the clinic. There was too much paperwork with annual inoculations coming up. He had been up to his elbows in forms, and in the back of his brain was the nagging fact that his daughter would be coming into San Francisco in just a day and he had absolutely no idea what to do with a girl that age.

He heard the soft noise of the doors to his office in the infirmary slide open and closed, and he looked up to see Christine standing over him wiggling a paper bag in front of his nose.

“What’s that?”

“Chinese, from that place on Ocean you like.” she told him as she settled on the edge of his desk.

“How much do I owe you?”

“My treat.” She said as she shifted one of the stacks of papers onto her lap, her elbow knocking against the picture frame on his desk. McCoy stopped rummaging through the bag of Chinese take out to regard Christine as she picked up the picture and turned it over in her hands.

“That’s my little girl.” He told her, his eyes never leaving her face. Less to gauge her reaction then it was an effort not to notice how long her legs were, as well as their proximity to him, and just how short the hem of her uniform was.

“She’s beautiful,” Christine said after a moment. “She’s got your eyes.”

“Maybe.” He grumbled. “But just about everything else is her Mom. She’s coming here tomorrow.” Christine raised an eyebrow and McCoy shook his head. “Joanna, my daughter. Not my ex-wife. It’s going to be the first time I’ve seen her since I came here.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” McCoy sighed.

“It is, and I’m dying to see her. I’ve been away for so much of her life, I have no idea what a little girl is going to want to do. I was hoping she’d be a bit older before she realized how boring her old man is.” Christine smiled.

“She’ll be glad enough to see you that she won’t care what you do. When I was her age my dad was my hero.” She told him, before frowning and digging into her purse and pulling out two slips of paper. “Why don’t you take these?”

“… Swan lake?”

“Yeah, when I was her age I really loved ballet. I mean, I danced until I was about fifteen. I was going to go with my roommate, but she’s decided she’d rather stay in with an engineering cadet.”

He leaned back in his chair, studied her. He supposed that he could thank ballet for those legs of hers. He shook his head to bring his attention back to the tickets she was holding.

“A ballet? I don’t really do… theater.” He didn’t. The idea of stuffing himself inside a suit to sit and watch people throw themselves around a stage whilst wearing bird outfits and tights was possibly the least appealing thing he’d thought of in awhile.

Joanna, however, from what he remembered, loved fairy tales, princesses, soft romantic feminine things. She used to draw them in vague scribbles that were pinned all through the old house. “I’m sorry, thank you, I’m sure Joanna will love it.” He said, running a hand through his hair. She almost visibly perked up and hopped off his desk, swooping a large stack of the papers into her arms. He started to protest and she waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Enjoy your lunch. I can do these, and you’ve been overworking yourself.” He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her job to look after him, but he bit his tongue. As much irritation as she had caused him early on, the fact that she seemed to want to go out of her way to please him was oddly endearing. So he forced a smile and nodded, and she all but bounced from the room with a self-satisfied look on her face.

***

Joanna, in fact, _adored_ , the ballet. To the point that afterwords she had sworn left, right, and center that she would be begging for lessons when she got home.

The idea of his ex-wife and her new fiancé having to foot the bill for Joanna’s new love of dance made up for having to sit through it.

And Joanna’s sheer delight as she babbled happily about the performance over dinner, at a hole-in-the-wall Italian place Christine had told him about, made him think he possibly even owed his assistant a bit for arranging it all.

He returned to the clinic the next morning to all the paperwork having been completed and a cup of coffee on his desk.

Christine looked utterly exhausted, but she still grinned the instant she saw him. She perched on the edge of his desk and listened, beaming, as he told her about the evening.

And at that point he started to wonder why it was he had so disliked her in the beginning.


End file.
